


like brothers on a hotel bed

by PassionateKey



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, POV Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:46:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassionateKey/pseuds/PassionateKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Steve after Peggy's funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like brothers on a hotel bed

**Author's Note:**

> title is inspired by brothers on a hotel bed//dcfc cause honestly listen to any death cab song and tell me you aren't reminded of stevebucky

He doesn't say anything, just struts into the room, and it's possible that the sight of the broken man quickens his pace, but no one else is there too witness that. Maybe he should be more worried about potential dangers, or even being spotted, but right now all that matters is the broken man in front of him and the shaking of his shoulders.

"When I lost you Buck.." he starts, looking up at him with no more fight in those clear blue eyes. "When I lost you Buck I felt like I was drowning. When I put that plane down, all those short breaths until the last one felt like a blessing."

He stops a few feet in front of him. His words cut through him, harsher then the ice he's used too.

"She was my sanity in this new world."

His shoulders begin to shake again, head falling into his open palms.

"I loved her, not in the way that I loved you," he sobs. "But I loved her."

He has his arms wrapped around the broken man before he can take another breath. The body heat reminds him that this is all real. That he is there in that room risking everything all because he couldn't watch the man that he may have loved once be broken any longer.

 

"I was there," his voice comes out hoarse. "At the funeral, I saw you and you looked so.. sad."

Steve snorts beside him, whole body shaking.

"I was sad Buck. Am sad."

He nods his head.

"I'm sorry. That your friend died."

Steve sighs, bringing his knees up to his chest.

"Not the first time and probably won't be the last."

 

"Is Bucky short for Buchanan?"

Blue eyes turn to look at him, a sad smile on the sad mans face.

"Yeah."

"Why Bucky, Steve?"

He, Steve, draws a breath in.

"It's the first time you've called me by my name."

He shrugs his shoulders. Steve continues.

"I'm not really sure, you came up to me one day when we were kids and said you wanted to start going by Bucky and so it became rule."

He nods, trying to tie what Steve is saying to the memories.

"I don't remember that," he says quietly. 

"What do you remember?" Steve asks almost as quiet.

 

"You told me you loved her," he starts, looking at his hands. "What did you mean by that?"

Steve sighs, watching the lights of cars passing by below them, on the wall in front of them.

"I'm not really sure Buck. I cared for her, you know."

"No I don't."

Steve lets out a bitter laugh.

"I cared for her and I think I could have loved her, like you're supposed to." Steve closes his eyes, leaning his head back on the mattress. "Like I loved you."

He feels his heart clench in his chest when Steve says those words, he's not sure why.

 

"What do you miss most from before the war?"

Steve's head in now resting on his shoulder, tie long ago discarded along with his shoes.

"Our apartment."

"I visited it, after I found out who the museum told me we were. They've turned it into a tour."

Steve snorts.

"Not surprised."

"Why do you miss it?" he asks interested in what Steve has to say versus all the books he's read on their lives.

"I don't know. It was just ours. It was the one place we had that we could be ourselves and not care what anyone else thought about it." Steve sits up, stretching his legs. "Don't get me wrong the place was a dump compared to what I live in now, but it was ours, so nothing else really mattered to me."

He nods, trying to remember not just visiting after the tour was done and gone, but living there.

"I remember.." he shuts his eyes tight, trying to chase the memory into the scary parts of his mind. "I remember the smell of coffee and the rattling the heater used to make in the winters, and you used to snore."

Steve turns to look at him with such a sad expression that he fears he'll start crying again.

 

"I'm sorry."

"What for Buck?"

"For dying, but not really. Then trying to kill you and not remembering who you are or who we used to be."

"None of that's your fault Buck."

"But if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be so sad. You never would have had to land that plane and you wouldn't have been frozen for 70 years and maybe you would have learned to love that Peggy Carter like you loved me. You'd be happy."

"None of that's your fault Buck." Steve whispers it this time.

 

"I want too help." 

Steve reaches for him for the first time since they'd untangled themselves.

He tenses, but doesn't pull away.

"I-I'm not ready, to be him," he stutters.

"Ready to be who?"

"Bucky Barnes, the man you used to love."

Steve's hands unclench from where they're holding his.

"I don't want you to be him Buck, I want you to be you."

"I don't know who that is."

 

He watches Steve as he gets up from their positions on the floor. Watches as he walks over to the window and begins to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off and neatly folding it on the chair next to him. Steve doesn't say a word as he slips off his black pants and shuffles over to the bed, all without turning on the lights. He can hear the rustling of sheets behind him and the creaking of the springs as Steve sits atop.

"I know you'll be gone in the morning, but can you stay with me tonight?"

 

Steve cries in his sleep as he clutches onto him, and with every little stir he clutches back a little tighter.

 

He makes no noise when he slips out of bed and puts his boots back on, listening intently to make sure Steve's breathing is still even. He makes it to the window before he hears the stirring.

"I don't want you to be him Buck. The man I used to love," Steve stares up at the ceiling. He can see from where he's standing that his eyes are still closed. "I just-I want you. And if that means you have to be the Winter Soldier and you never remember anything then I'll take it. I know that makes me selfish but I'll always care about you no matter who you chose to be."

He pauses before reaching for the latch on the window.

"Could you ever love him?" he asks without turning around, for the first time ever fearing the answer.

"I think I could if you let me."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what i'm even doing anymore, who's still letting me write and post things?


End file.
